


When Toru Was There

by barbequewotor



Category: Haikyuu!!, 思い出のマーニー | Omoide no Marnie | When Marnie Was There (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asthma, Asthmatic Kozume Kenma, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Oikawa is an only child in this, Platonic Kozume Kenma/Tooru Oikawa, Platonic Relationships, Studio Ghibli, Very Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, minor homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-22 19:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbequewotor/pseuds/barbequewotor
Summary: Hoping to help his frequent asthma attacks, Kenma's foster parents send him to live with his foster aunt and uncle who live in a village near the seaside. Indulging in his love for sketching Kenma becomes enamored with the vacant mansion known as the Marsh House. Soon, though, he finds that the mansion may not be as vacant as it first seemed, meeting and befriending a mysterious young boy named Toru.!!Spoilers for When Marnie Was There from Studio Ghibli!!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	When Toru Was There

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When Marnie Was There](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/778731) by Joan G Robinson. 



> It's literally just When Marnie Was There but Haikyuu.

The entire playground was filled with the sounds of children playing. Those of varying ages playing about on the platforms and bridges, going down slides, climbing on anything they could, and playing in the sand with plastic tools in their hands.

Kenma sat quietly on a bench, having specifically chosen the spot for its shaded area underneath a tree. Drawing pad and pencil in hand he sketched the structures before him, trying to not see all the children running about in his way, it’s not like he could tell them not to play during their free time.

The light breeze took away from the heat of early summer, but it still left Kenma slightly uncomfortable. He’d taken his jacket off and laid it down beside him on the bench, but he was still just a little too hot. He would have preferred staying inside of the classroom to do this project, but that probably would have made drawing the playground with kids playing on it hard to do.

He still didn’t understand why he needed multiple children in the picture, one was enough.

_‘In this world, there’s an invisible magic circle.’_

Looking up from his work Kenma’s eyes fell onto the children in the sandpit nearest to him. One jumping down into it, three more building a castle of sorts, two girls standing on the edge, and one boy raking patterns into the fine grain. They were all from his school, as he could see by their matching shorts worn by elementary students during recess or physical education. Taking in the figures quickly he looked down at his paper, hoping the singular child he’d drawn into his sketch was proportioned correctly.

He wasn’t opposed to children being around each other, it was probably better for them to be social, he just wanted the project to convey his own personality.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma could hear some of his female classmates giggling, talking about their own renditions of the assignment given by their art teacher.

_‘There’s an inside…’_

Kenma tried to block out the sounds, feeling himself getting slight sensory overload. He added more shading to the slide he’d drawn, making sure the light was coming from the correct direction when taking into account the other shading he’d done throughout the piece already.

Kenma reached up to push his hair back behind his ear after it fell down and obstructed his sight. He usually preferred his hair to cover his peripheral vision, but right now he was focused on drawing and didn’t care about the world around his, so he would rather be able to see the paper as well as possible.

_‘…and an outside.’_

Akio, the teacher who was supervising the students at the park, approached Kenma’s classmates, hands on his hips. He’d been walking around the perimeter of the park, watching the kids and talking to some of the students every now and again.

“What’s the problem? Let me see.” He chuckled, holding out his hand to take the girl’s sketchpad. This lead the girl to giggle, saying she had made a mistake and she didn’t want to show him until she was done.

_‘Those people are inside the circle,’_

Kenma wasn’t sure what exactly _she’d_ messed up, but he saw now that _he’d_ drawn his sliding child in what would likely be an uncomfortable position. He swore under his breath, reaching into his pocket to pull his kneaded eraser from its plastic baggy.

The girls soon started talking again, leading Kenma to assume the teacher had gone back to watching the playground.

_‘and I am outside,’_

Kenma twisted the eraser so that he could erase the young boy with seemingly a crooked spine and legs.

“Time to cure your scoliosis, kid,” Kenma whispered to the paper. Kenma chuckled under his breath at his own joke, rubbing the graphite off of the paper and going to put the eraser back in its bag.

_‘but that doesn’t matter.’_

He put the eraser back into his pocket and went to grab his pencil from his left hand to redraw the child.

“How’s it going?”

Looking up in shock Kenma realized his teacher was now talking to him, having gone directly from the girls’ to him two benches over. Kenma’s hand tightened around the spiral of the sketchbook, no doubt making indentions on his hand.

The teacher leaned forward to try to look at Kenma’s art, and without thinking, Kenma hugged the pencil drawing against his chest, likely smudging it or getting the graphite on his shirt. He didn’t think he’d layered the pencil on that thick, but it could be possible. He just hoped he hadn’t gotten his white shirt dirty.

“I… kinda messed up…” Kenma felt anxiety creeping up his spine, he was embarrassing himself, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to talk to someone while he was working, let alone a teacher. 

“Let me have a look.” The teacher held out his hand palm up. Kenma stared at it for a second before processing the situation. He could feel the back of his neck heating up with embarrassment. Feeling as though he had no other option, Kenma breathed out, loosening his grip and moving his hands so he could pass the unfinished assignment to the man before him.

A child’s cries rung out into the open air. The wails drawing everyone’s attention, including that of the boy with bicolored hair. As his teacher moved to find the crying child Kenma spotted him in the center of the playground under a bridge. He’d likely fallen off. Other children had gathered around, even Kenma’s classmates ran to the crying boy. Kenma wasn’t close enough to be able to tell if he had been seriously hurt. Kenma was still holding out the paper as his teacher ran over to examine the little kid causing a scene.

Kenma coughed, feeling his chest getting tighter as he looked back at his drawing. Taking in shallower breaths Kenma pulled the pad back towards him, leaning over it. His pencil’s tip broke as his fist holding the pencil pushed into the back of the sketchbook. Kenma’s hair formed a curtain around his reddening face as he scrunched up his eyebrows, trying his hardest to fix his breathing pattern. He coughed again.

_‘I…’_

He couldn’t hear the crying child anymore. He couldn’t hear anything. All he could hear was buzzing. He was being consumed by the noise.

_‘I hate myself.’_

He started coughing again, trying to take in air again each time the cough ended, only to trigger another, and another, and another. His chest was hurting so much he felt like crying, maybe even screaming if he’d had enough air in his lungs for that. Hunching over, Kenma let loose another chain of painful coughs, each one feeling like it hurt just a little more than the last.

The doctor pressed his stethoscope to Kenma’s chest, directing the young boy’s breathing. After a few breaths, the doctor took the metal plate off of Kenma’s chest, hanging the tube around his neck and putting his hands on his thighs.

“You’re fine now, that’s all, okay?” Kenma nodded in response.

Kenma’s foster mother immediately began thanking the doctor as Kenma buttoned his pajama shirt back up, placing his arms back at his side when the top button was done up. The doctor stood and assured the woman that ‘it was no problem’ as he pushed his patient’s rolling chair back to its desk, the wheels clicking over the wooden boards of the floor.

The woman turned to her child and knelt down to grab his hand, face still painted in concern. Her thumb massaged the back of Kenma’s hand as she spoke.

“Kenma, how do you feel now?” The woman asked her foster son, holding his small hand between hers. Kenma kept his eyes lowered, not looking anywhere in particular. He hated that he was causing his guardians trouble so often they had a doctor on speed dial, let alone one who was so familiar with the family he was okay with visiting the house to check on Kenma. That doctor being Dr. Onishi.

“I’m fine.” He said, his voice quiet. His guardian’s eyebrows furrowed in worry, she was always so concerned for him, no matter what he said. It was sort of a reminder that she cared, in a weird kind of way.

“It looked like you were in so much pain,” her hands tightened and untightened around his, “didn’t you have your inhaler?” Kenma turned his head, looking in the opposite direction of the woman leaning on the edge of his bed to get to his eye level. She continued adding and removing the pressure on his hand, almost like a massage.

“I cost you money again…” His voice was even quieter now if that was even possible, but his foster mother still heard exactly what he said and took no time to reply.

“Now why do you say that?”

Before Kenma could think of a way to explain his worries the front door to their apartment’s doorbell rang, signaling someone’s arrival, though he wasn’t sure who. Kokoro, the woman who held guardianship over Kenma, turned her head, seeming to be just as confused as Kenma. Though, maybe her emotions showed better than his. Letting go of her foster son’s hands she went to the hall, opening the metal front door to three of Kenma’s classmates. One of the three was looking down at her phone, probably texting someone, or playing a game.

“Why, hello girls. What are you doing here?” Kenma could hear Kokoro say faintly from where he sat in his bedroom halfway down the hall. Kenma laid back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Kenma left his school bag.” The girl with the shortest hair, a dark brown bob, held up a leather schoolbag with two hands on the handle, giving a sweet smile of awkwardness. The interaction was taking much longer than she’d anticipated it would. The girl who’d been on her phone looked up, pressing her phone against her abdomen, and looking up at Kenma’s guardian.

"He also left his notebook.” Chimed in the girl directly beside her, between the two of them. Gesturing to the first’s hand, which held both items, one bag behind the other. Kokoro held out her hands to take the bags, stepping a foot or so past the threshold of her home, thanking the girls as she did so.

“We were nearby.” Said the short-haired girl, and then bowed slightly in goodbye before turning and walking away with the other parts of her ensemble.

“Miyoko, has Kenma been getting along with all of you?” Kokoro lowered her voice as though she was hoping to make sure Kenma could not hear her asking his classmates the question. There were a few seconds of silence before she continued.

Doctor Onishi was still packing up his bag, back turned to Kenma, having not said a single word since announcing that would be all for today, turned his head in the direction of the front door as Kokoro spoke again. 

"He doesn't tell me anything about school." The doctor turned his attention to Kenma, who was now laying with his head on his pillow and his hands resting on his chest, staring blankly at the ceiling of his room. He was hearing every word, he just wasn't sure how to react, or even if he was supposed to react. 

The girls responded, lowering their voices as Kokoro did, but it had just as little effect, "He's okay, just a little quiet." One said.

“Quiet? More like-“ She was cut off by Miyoko.

“Hey, don’t,” Miyoko turned back to her classmate’s guardian. “We’re just loud.”

“Well, take care.” The girls waved goodbye as they walked towards the metal stairs that would take them back to the ground.

As he closed his bag the doctor looked back at Kenma, rolling his sleeves down and buttoning the cuff as he spoke, “Always worrying about you, isn’t she? Your mother.”

Kenma didn’t think to respond, instead repeating the phrase under his breath. Almost as if he’d forgotten.

“My…mother.”

“He’s probably cut himself off from everyone at school,” Kokoro spoke as she poured tea for Doctor Onishi. He was sitting at the Kozumes’ dining room table, patiently waiting for a chance to talk to his patient’s parent. As she brought the teacup over on a tray, sitting it down in front of him, he started speaking.

“You know, in some cases, asthma attacks can be related to stress.” Kokoro nodded, replying almost immediately.

“It doesn’t help that my husband travels a lot.”

Kenma couldn’t make out the middle part of the conversation, turning his pencil in his hand over the small trash bin in his room, using a small knife to carve the wood and graphite into a satisfactory point.

“It’s like he won’t show his emotions…” Kenma’s eyes widened slightly as he accidentally broke the tip of the graphite. Watching it fall into the trash can, he processed what he’d heard Kokoro say.

“Maybe it’s because we’re not related by blood.” Kenma paused, staring down at the pencil and blade. He focused all his energy on hearing the rest of the conversation. He was curious now. He put the things taking up his hands beside him on his bedside table, standing up and walking to his door as he did so. He pressed his ear to the door.

Kenma held his sketchpad above him in bed, his lamp illuminating the pages just enough that he could see the place where he erased the child from his picture.

_‘Maybe you should send him to your relatives for a while. A bit of fresh air would do him good.'_

Kenma put the pad down, resting it against the lower half of his body as he laid under the covers. He could hear the air conditioner. He moved the sketchbook to his bedside table and turned off the small lamp so he could go to sleep. The assignment was supposed to be finished today and turned in before dismissal, now that it was the weekend there was no way he could turn it in without causing trouble for Kokoro and he'd rather not do that. He was never going to draw the little boy back into the picture. 

**Author's Note:**

> I told you so. I hope it was good, though.


End file.
